


Of Bards and Sorceresses

by NinjaSniperKitty



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: But also very much in love, Cuddling, Episode: s01e06 Rare Species, Geralt is 200 percent done with everything, Hand Jobs, Jaskier is absolutely a degenerate, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, Yennefer mostly thinks it's hilarious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23504191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSniperKitty/pseuds/NinjaSniperKitty
Summary: Geralt had fully planned on entering Yennefer's tent to make amends with the sorceress; the resulting sex had been unexpected but not necessarily unwelcome. He had not, however, planned on an absolutedegenerateof a bard eavesdropping on the encounter. Even more so, he had not planned on said sorceress actually inviting the bard in.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 166





	Of Bards and Sorceresses

The tent had been so unassuming from the outside. A haggard-looking white cloth stretched over a simple wooden frame. It looked as if it could only fit two people side-by-side, and even then it would be a tight fit. If Geralt hadn't seen Yennefer retire into it for the night, he would not have believed that it was the sorceress’ chosen abode. She always had had a preference for the grandiose, and this tent was anything but that.

Upon pulling the flap aside and entering the tent, he is somehow not surprised. The interior of the tent is at least ten times bigger than it would seem from the outside and far more glamorous. A plush carpet with intricate designs covers the floor; it looks expensive. Various pieces of smaller furniture—vanities, coat racks, tables—fill the outer edge. In the center of the tent is a large bed.

Geralt finds Yennefer before a vanity. She is in the process of undressing when he enters and she quickly turns around upon hearing him approach.

“So simple,” Geralt comments, nodding at the tent.

“Do you like it?” asks Yennefer, yet Geralt is not convinced that she is referring to the decor. She walks up to him until their faces are mere inches apart and he can smell the slightest hint of wine on her breath. Noticing his hesitation, she speaks up. “Is this not what you came for?”

“I came for you.”

Yennefer pauses for a moment, thinking. “I was afraid that mountain would take you from me, but now I fear it took your senses instead.”

“Only my nonsense,” Geralt retorts.

A small smile plays at the sorceress’ lips. Her eyes look him over. “I quite like your nonsense.”

Unable to resist any longer. Geralt presses his forehead to hers, breathing deeply. She smells of lilac and gooseberries. “Hm… That scent.” It was quickly becoming his favorite. “The moment I dread most every time you leave...is when it fades. When you're really gone.”

Her voice becomes soft. “You left first. In Rinde. I woke up in that destroyed house and you were gone.”

“Forgive me.” Looking back on that moment, he often regretted leaving the sorceress behind. He could have stayed there with her forever, just the two of them enjoying one another’s company. Yet he'd had to get Jaskier back to town lest he almost get himself killed again.

In retrospect, it had been his fault that the bard had almost died. That damn djinn… He hadn't been thinking straight, hadn't carefully considered his words before accidentally wishing for that peace and quiet. In his defense, though, he'd been (still was) extremely sleep deprived and was thoroughly pissed off at Jaskier. There was no way he could have known exactly what would have happened. He tried not to think about it.

Hesitant at first to judge her reaction, he leans forward and presses his lips to hers. They’re soft, far softer than his own, and he’s quick to deepen the kiss when the sorceress does not pull away. 

Wandering hands reach behind her back and undo the final lacing of her black bodice. The garment falls away, revealing the pale swell of her breasts. He drinks in the sight of her with his eyes.

Yennefer threads her fingers through Geralt’s hair, encouraging him on when his lips trail from her jaw, down past her throat, until they reach her breasts. The witcher’s hands trace feminine curves as he draws one nipple into his mouth, and then the other. She hums and utters a soft curse under her breath. Her skin is impossibly warm despite the frigid evening air seeping into the tent through the thin walls.

Geralt draws his tongue over her nipples one last time before grudgingly pulling away. His golden eyes meet her violet, and he takes in the way her flush colors her cheeks. it's almost enough to take his breath away. “Damn, you're beautiful,” he comments idly before going to undo his own armor and shirt.

As he pulls his shirt up and over his head, Geralt notices that the sorceress’ eyes have gone wide and her attention is focused towards the entrance to the tent. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, the hair on the back of his neck beginning to bristle. 

A smile plays at her lips and she relaxes. “Mm. It seems we have a spy in our midst listening outside the tent.”

“Who?”

“I believe it's that pup that's always at your heels. The singing one.”

Geralt curses. Leave it to _Jaskier_ to try and ruin this for him. The fucking degenerate. He'd be lucky if he didn't beat him within an inch of his life for this! With a growl, Geralt stomps over to the entrance of the tent and throws the flap open.

Lo and behold, Jaskier is sitting on a rock no more than two feet away, his hands clasped in his lap. His head shoots up upon noticing Geralt, who is half-naked and horny and _very much_ pissed with the entire situation. The bard’s eyes go wide—from shock to fear—at the realization that he has been caught.

“Oh! Uh, Geralt!” the bard splutters. His face flushes a bright red. “There you are! I was just, ah, sitting here looking for dragon tracks.”

“Looking for dragon tracks with a tent in your pants.” Geralt grits his teeth. “What the hell do you think you're doing? _Leave.”_

There is the sound of Yennefer’s voice from behind him. “Invite him in.”

The expression on Jaskier's face shifts between confusion and fear. It would have almost been amusing to watch the bard experiencing such inner turmoil under different circumstances. 

Geralt shoots a questioning look at Yennefer over his shoulder. She has moved into a sitting position on the bed, her face an unreadable mask.

With a huff, Geralt gestures Jaskier in with a jerk of his head. The bard is quick to scrabble onto his feet and into the tent, as if knowing that it was not the time to argue with the witcher. He closes the tent flap behind them. If he was lucky, maybe Yenn would turn him into some small, silent, non-perverted animal. 

“Wow, the tent is, hah, much larger on the inside. Wow. Is that an entire wardrobe— _aaand you're naked._ Oh. Gosh.” Jaskier clears his throat in a mock show of modesty, yet he does not tear his eyes from Yennefer’s form. Geralt has the strong urge to punch him in the face. 

“I apologize. I had no idea you two were, ah, being intimate with one another. Truly sorry. Wow. Okay. Yes, I'll be on my way, then. You two have fun.” Yet Jaskier does not move.

“It's awfully bold of you to be spying on a sorceress, don't you think? A sorceress and a witcher, nonetheless,” quips Yennefer. ”Many of my peers would have set your genitals ablaze for lesser infractions.”

Geralt snorts at that. If only.

“You must be stupid if you would risk your life just to listen to two people fuck. Stupid… or desperate.”

Jaskier stammers. He opens and closes his mouth several times looking for something to say. For once in his life, he is speechless.

“...I-I was doing no such thing! You are _assuming—“_

Geralt interrupts. “Shut the fuck up, Jaskier. You reek of arousal and you're shit at lying.”

That quickly shuts the bard up.

“You're more than welcome to join if you would like. If it is okay with Geralt, anyway.”

 _That_ grabs Geralt’s attention. If she is implying what he thinks she is implying… His eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he mouths a silent question to her of _is she sure?_ The sorceress is a loose cannon. Whenever Geralt thought that he had figured her out she always found new ways to surprise her. Although he supposes that this request pales in comparison to when he had first met her in the midst of an orgy all those years ago...

“Geralt? Is this arrangement acceptable?”

His attention snaps back to the present. Both Yenn and Jaskier are staring at him. He clears his throat. “I’m okay with it, but I hardly feel this is appropriate considering he was trying to get off to this outside of the tent.”

Geralt doesn't miss the way Jaskier briefly smiles at his words.

“I think it could be fun to watch you two idiots, personally,” says Yennefer.

“Watch what?” Jaskier’s eyes fall upon Geralt and he swallows heavily. “Oh. Y-You mean Geralt and I. In a sexual context. Ah.” His eyes dart between him and Yennefer, like a cornered puppy. “I’m, uh, I typically am not comfortable with being watched.”

A smirk plays at Yennefer’s lips. “Weren't you but two hours ago singing about your _sexual exploits,_ bard? Remind me, how many mermaids did you fuck at once? You didn't seem shy about it then. Show me just how _masterful_ you are at the art of lovemaking.”

“Song and actually doing it are two _very different_ things and you know it, witch!” 

_They bicker like children,_ Geralt thinks with a frown. All he knows is that Yennefer had interrupted their time together to bring in Jaskier, and now he was shaking like a leaf—very much unlike the normally cock-sure bard. It was very much killing the mood for him.

He wasn't opposed to it. At this point, he would fuck just about anything if it meant he could finally get off. And if it was what Yenn wanted, who was he to say no? Jaskier was attractive enough. He wouldn't deny that he'd had fleeting thoughts about what it would be like to have the bard's mouth wrapped around his cock.

“Mm, of course.” Yennefer quirks an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Pretend as if I'm not here, then. What would you do to Geralt? I'm more than certain you've thought about it before.”

“I have,” Jaskier slaps a hand to his chest in mock offense, “ _never!_ You are _projecting_ —”

“I've seen the way you look at him. It's more than just a look of admiration. It’s a look of longing.”

Jaskier swallows heavily and glances briefly at Geralt. “Maybe a little. But—“

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts. He didn't have time for this shit. “Either do something or get out.”

“ _But Geralt!”_ His name comes out as a whine and Jaskier makes as if he wants to point at Yennefer, to protest, but his mouth clamps shut. With an exaggerated sigh, he walks over to Geralt and stops a few inches before his knees. Like this, the bard is almost a head taller than him. Geralt can see the way his Adam's apple bobs heavily in this throat, notices the way he licks his lips—he's nervous—before giving him a teeth-baring smile and a breathy chuckle. “This isn't how I had initially pictured this playing out in my head.”

It's better to give him the time to build up the courage. Geralt doesn't move, even when Jaskier runs his fingers through his tangled hair, brushes a stray strand behind his ears. 

“How had you pictured it playing out?” Geralt asks.

“I, um… Romantic. Perhaps after a nice dinner and a bath. Perhaps in a moment of adrenaline-filled passion after narrowly escaping some parlous situation. Definitely not after having been caught _allegedly_ listening in on you two.”

“Seems like you've put a lot of thought into this.”

“Maybe.”

Geralt grabs the bard’s wrist and sets him with an earnest look. “Jaskier, if you are uncomfortable by no means do you have to—”

“No. I want to.”

Geralt lets him trail a thumb along his jawline, captures his lips in a kiss. It's gentle, far more gentle than he had been expecting from him. Soft at first as he lets him explore while he builds confidence. Then, hungrier and emboldened, his tongue tracing his bottom lip as he starts to resemble more of the confident bard Geralt knows. His lips are soft, unlike his own that had been scarred and chapped by the wind. 

Behind him, Geralt hears the creak of the bed shifting with Yennifer’s weight. Getting comfortable, no doubt. 

“Is this okay, by the way? Me doing this? I should have asked before—“

“ _Jaskier._ ”

“Right. Sorry.”

Jaskier pushes at Geralt’s chest until he sits on the edge of the bed, his feet pressed to the floor. Jaskier is on his knees before him, deft fingers undoing the fastening of his pants. A fierce blush colors his face. He hesitates for a moment, big eyes peering up at him as if waiting for Geralt to stop him. There is no response, however, just the sound of Geralt’s deep exhale when Jaskier finally, _finally_ gets around to freeing his erection from the confines of his pants.

“Did whatever potions they give you during witcher school affect this, too? Good god, Geralt, it's like a baby’s arm!”

Yennefer laughs behind him, and Geralt can't help but inwardly groan. “I'm glad to know that you don't shut up during sex, either. I'm somehow not surprised.”

Gray eyes look up at him from beneath dark lashes. Jaskier smirks and inhales sharply. “I know of a few ways you could _make me_ shut up.”

 _There’s that confidence._ A sudden hand squeezing around his cock makes him jerk. “Don't tempt me,” Geralt growls, yet there is no malice behind it. 

“Oh, I’d very much like to tempt you.” Soft hands—of fucking course he'd have the hands of someone who'd never done a hard day’s work—with callused fingertips wrap around his length, tentatively stroke him. 

He quickly builds confidence, and his strokes become more purposeful. His eyes are glued to Geralt’s face as he gauges his reaction to each twist of his wrist, to a thumb trailing along the tip of him.

There's the sound of shifting fabric. Turning his head, he sees that Yennefer has taken off her skirt and underclothes. Geralt watches as she crawls towards him on hands and knees, her hips swaying provocatively with each movement forward until she is just behind him. A thumb under his chin directs his lips to hers. They're softer than the bard’s, yet her kiss is fierce, possessive. 

“Tired of watching?” Geralt asks against her lips.

“Mhm.”

He grunts and is pulled away from the kiss as the sensation of something wet and warm wraps around the head of his cock. Jaskier’s lips are around him and he is still staring up at him with those gray eyes now half-lidded with lust. 

The bed shifts behind him. Yennefer stands up and over Geralt’s thighs until her femininity is at face height. “Be a good boy…” Yennefer tangles a hand in Geralt’s hair and encourages him forward.

Never one to say no to a pretty woman, Geralt trails kisses from her knees to the pale swell of her inner thigh until he he is reaching up to spread her folds. Yennefer gasps as his tongue teases the bud of her arousal and laps at her nectar. She tastes heady, sweet. Geralt drinks in her moans. 

Even with a mouth filled with cock, Jaskier cannot shut up. He makes little whimpers and moans and Geralt can’t tell if he is putting on a show for him or is just very much enjoying himself. Either way, it stokes the fire in his belly even higher and Geralt can’t help but tangle his fingers in the bard’s hair. 

Pulling away to catch his breath, Geralt glances down and watches while Jaskier unfastens his own trousers and pushes them down enough to free his own erection. His gray eyes meet Geralt’s gold as he begins to frantically stroke himself.

Nails at his scalp draw Geralt’s attention back to Yennefer. “I know the bard is a pretty sight, but I need your attention elsewhere right now.”

Geralt smirks at that. _How rude of him._ “Sorry.” Once more, he returns to pleasuring the sorceress with his mouth. He draws her bud between his lips and sucks. The resulting gasp from Yenn along with the warm wetness around his cock sends a shudder through his body.

Jaskier pulls off of him with a wet slurp. “Fuck, I’m ah… I-I’m getting close… _Please_ tell me you two are as well…” 

Yennefer chuckles at that. There's a breathless quality to her voice. “Are you sure this is not your first time? I pity your partners if this is all the endurance you have.”

“Let me fuck you and we’ll see if you change your mind...”

“Please. You can—mm, just like that—barely handle your own hand much less—“

“Shut up. The both of you.” _Again. Like children. Or an old married couple._ Their bickering was growing old. Geralt simultaneously pinches the inside of Yennefer’s thigh and tugs hard at Jaskier’s hair. 

At having his hair pulled, the bard lets out a stuttering gasp and his eyes roll back. His mouth is agape as he finishes into his fist.

It’s enough to catch Geralt off guard. He blinks, incredulous. Well. That had been a lot easier than he had been expecting. Geralt releases his hold on Jaskier's hair and awkwardly pats the side of the bard’s face.

Once he has seemingly come down from the post-orgasm high, Jaskier’s face flushes a deep red. It’s almost endearing, Geralt thinks. 

“Not. A word. From either of you,” Jaskier pants. He lets his head loll forward to rest on Geralt's knee.

Geralt rolls his eyes. His hands idly trace the shapely curves of Yennefer’s legs as he stares down at the bard. The bard’s expression is thoroughly blissed out.

With a small chuckle, Geralt returns to his work, much to Yennefer’s vocal delight. Her pale thighs tremble beneath his hands when he draws his tongue along her just so, and her incautious groans and whimpers send a fresh wave of pleasure to his cock that is now feeling very neglected.

But then he looks down at Jaskier and sees him staring at him, sweat-slicked hair clinging to his face and a wicked look in his eyes. With the bard's cheek still on his knee, he begins to languidly stroke his erection still slick from his mouth and now his own seed.

His brain is being driven into a blissful state between Jaskier’s nimble hands working at his cock and the needy moans of Yenn, feeling her fingers clutch desperately at his hair as she, for all intents and purposes, keeps him from pulling away. It all makes Geralt wonder if he has died and passed on. The scent of sex and sweat and lilac and whatever the fuck oils Jaskier wears—sandalwood, probably—fills the room and makes Geralt’s head spin. Too much stimulation all at once.

With renewed fervor—he can’t finish before Yenn out of principle but _fuck_ if he isn’t close—he flicks his tongue across her bud. She is staring down at him with those intense purple eyes that are half-lidded with lust, her brows knitted. Her lips are bright red and she pleads silently for Geralt to continue _just like that_.

With a small smirk, Geralt grabs her ass and pulls her closer onto his tongue. Yennefer shatters like glass, turns to liquid above him as she comes. Her face is flushed as she trembles through her orgasm, and she is one of the most bewitching things Geralt has ever seen.

His own release is building in his core like a hot ball of fire and Geralt squeezes his eyes shut.

“Are you close?” Jaskier asks from between his legs. His voice is low and sultry. Upon seeing Geralt swallow heavily and nod his head, he doubles his efforts. “Good. Come nice and hard for me—that's it…”

It’s too much. Yennefer's heavy breaths on top of Jaskier moving his hands just right cause him to quickly finish info the bard's loose fist with a grunt. It's all-consuming and his mind goes blank for a moment. 

When he finally recovers from the post-orgasm high and opens his eyes, Jaskier is peering back at him with all the affection in the world, all big eyes and a shit-eating grin. Yennefer steps aside and lays at Geralt’s side, but not before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him down with her. 

“Mm, you certainly know how to treat a woman…” Yenn quips. She readjusts herself and Geralt is quick to pull her to his chest.

“I try my best.” Geralt buries his nose in her thick raven hair and just breathes her in. God, how he misses this scent when she's gone…

The sound of shifting at the edge of the bed grabs his attention. Jaskier stands up and, with a devilish grin directed at Yenn that does not go unnoticed by him, wipes his hands off on the end of the comforter.

Yennefer groans. “Those sheets cost more than your life.”

“Yeah, well, it's not like this is their first exposure to various male fluids. And I'm sure this will not be the first time they're exposed to Geralt’s.”

“Not if I can help it…” Geralt mumbles. His eyelids grow heavier by the second. With two fingers, he gestures Jaskier over.

The bard's eyes go wide. He looks surprised and glances between him and the door of the tent repeatedly. “I mean, I had fully intended to leave once I had finished, but if you _really_ want me to stay…”

“Get over here, you vile thing. Come cuddle with your boy toy,” demands Yenn. She throws an arm over Geralt’s chest.

Geralt doesn't miss the sigh of relief as he kicks off his boots and clambers into the bed. His eyes fall on Geralt for several moments as if waiting for him to push him away. When no such resistance comes, however, he lays down at his other side. 

Geralt wraps an arm under Jaskier's shoulders and pulls him close. “I expect you to be out of here by tomorrow morning. Understood?”

“Mhm. You'll never know I was here.”

“Somehow I doubt it.” With a small sigh of contentment, Geralt lets his eyes close. 


End file.
